


House Party Drama

by xblack_paradex



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gay, High School, House Party, Love/Hate, Making Out, Party, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xblack_paradex/pseuds/xblack_paradex
Summary: clyde's having a house party and everyone at south park high is gonna be there. what better place for drama to arise?kyle/stan (OBVIOUSLY). kenny/butters. and a lil bit of wendy/cartman bc why not lol.





	House Party Drama

**Author's Note:**

> everyone in this fic is 18, fyi lol  
> btw i wrote this entire fic w no space bar on my keyboard so y'all should appreciate this shitty fic even more
> 
> theres not much smut but be warned for the last scene lol and it might not be between who u expect;)

“Dude, I hate parties,” said Kyle as he observed the scene in front of him from the living room couch.

Cartman was currently engaging in a shotgun competition with Craig and Clyde, and undoubtedly losing as golden brown liquid dribbled down his chin, creating a dark, suspiciously penis-shaped stain on the front of his sweatshirt. Kyle rolled his eyes and looked down into his cup, which was almost completely full save for the two tiny sips he’d taken earlier in the night when Clyde had shoved the cup into his hands upon arrival. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” he continued, turning to face his best friend. Stan sat next to him on the couch, his arm snaked around his girlfriend’s waist as they whispered to each other in that secretive, hushed couple-y way. 

Stan turned to him. “Dude, you need to get out more. All you ever do is sit in your room and read. Look at all the girls here, man! Shoot your shot! You’re about to graduate a virgin.”

“So what?” snapped Kyle, leaning back into the soft cushions of the couch. “Everything isn’t about sex, Stan. Just because you lost your virginity in eighth grade doesn’t mean everyone else wants to nut inside the first girl who pays attention to them.” 

Okay, so maybe that was a little out of line. But he was growing sick of his friends pressuring him to hook up with girls at any chance they could. He was perfectly fine on his own, and really couldn't see what the big deal was about being an eighteen-year-old virgin. 

“Whatever, man. Just stop bitching to me, ‘cause I really don't wanna hear it.” Stan turned back to Wendy, and Kyle tried to ignore their stupid giggling as he took another impossibly small sip of beer.

Kyle looked up to the ceiling, stifling a gag as he mulled the beer around in his mouth before finally forcing himself to swallow. When had he gotten so bitter? He couldn't be sure, but as of late it had become more and more difficult for him to contain.

“You know, Kyle, my friend Heidi said you’re cute. You should go for her,” said Wendy, her voice partially obscured from the blaring rap music that echoed throughout the crowded house. 

He shrugged. “That’s nice.” 

Sometimes Kyle wondered why he wasn't like all the other boys his age, why he didn’t live his life from one girl to the next, or find it fun to drink himself into embarrassment. He always felt most comfortable hanging out alone with Stan, sitting on the couch watching some stupid TV show while binging on snacks and laughing about nothing. But ever since senior year had begun, Stan hadn’t seemed as into that anymore; lately he’d been going out to parties into the early morning hours and cutting class to smoke weed behind the school with the other “cool kids” like Clyde, all the while leaving Kyle in the dust, alone with his books. They were still best friends, of course, but things had started to change. It made his heart hurt, sometimes, though he’d never admit something so gay.

He watched his classmates, the ones he’d known ever since he was in Kindergarten, back when times were so much simpler. They had no trouble socializing, it seemed. He decided then that he was going to try something different, just for tonight. Maybe if it worked, he’d grow some balls and be able to socialize without Stan as his crutch.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, placing his cup on the coffee table. He wasn’t surprised when he received no response from Stan or Wendy, who were completely immersed in one another. Instead of trying to talk to them again, he stood up and made his way through the kitchen, where Cartman was retching into a sink, and through the back door, where a group of kids had gathered to smoke weed. He scanned the back patio until he found what he’d been looking for: a familiar, neon orange parka. 

The parka, however, wasn’t alone. Kenny sat at the patio table, a black lighter and a large bottle of vodka set on the frosted glass in front of him. On his lap was a very drunk Bebe, who was being passed a joint from the parka-clad boy underneath her. 

Bebe was one of those girls who seemed to find a new boy to fixate on every week, and it seemed apparent that Kenny was her boy of choice tonight. Kyle walked over to his friend, feeling somewhat awkward as Kenny craned his neck around Bebe’s shapely body to meet Kyle’s gaze.

“Hey, man,” said Kyle shyly. “Hey, Bebe.”

“Ohmygod, hey, Kyle,” sang Bebe, her words slurring together almost to the point of incomprehension. “Isn’t Kyle suuuuuch a cutie? He’s just so adorable, right, Kenny?”

Kenny gave an amused smirk, which Kyle could see even despite the fabric shielding the majority of his face. “Oh yeah. A cutie if I ever saw one.”

“I know you bought a bottle of vodka for tonight, and I know I said that vodka tastes like if someone drank a bottle of antibacterial rubbing alcohol and barfed it back into your mouth, but I was wondering if I could have some.”

“Uh, sure, Kyle. But why do you want some all of a sudden?”

“I dunno. I just thought maybe it’d make everything easier, y’know? I’m just really awkward, and I-“

“-You wanna get drunk so you can actually try to get some pussy for once. Understandable.” 

Kyle frowned, but decided not to say anything more. He picked up the bottle and unscrewed it, bringing his nose over to the rim momentarily. Immediately, his nostrils burned, and he found himself already regretting this decision. Whatever. He couldn’t pussy out now that Kenny and Bebe were watching him expectantly. 

He chuckled nervously, bringing the bottle to his lips. “Here I go, I guess.”

Then he pinched his nose shut, squeezed his eyes closed, and tilted his head back, his lips wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. He wasn’t sure how else to go about this, and was worried that he’d give up should he decide to drink a little at a time, so instead he made the decision to drink as much as possible in one go. Pinching his nose had probably been a good idea, since the vodka tasted disgusting enough without his nasal passages available, and he couldn’t imagine how awful it would taste if he hadn’t taken that precaution. His throat burned, but he kept downing the clear liquid, his head pounding with each gulp. He saw an array of colorful spots from his eyes being shut so tightly, and he took a final swig before slamming the bottle down onto the table, gasping for air. 

When he opened his eyes, he realized everyone was watching him, slack-jawed. Even Kenny looked surprised, and his personal hobby was chugging alcoholic beverages to the point of illness. 

“Dude,” was all Kenny could muster. 

All Kyle could muster was a strange burp-hiccup hybrid, and everyone erupted into cheers. 

“That was b-buh-badass,” said Jimmy, who Kyle was surprised to see smoking a joint on the patio with the rest of the kids. Kyle just smiled, and then placed his hands on his stomach as it gurgled in apparent protest.

“I feel funny,” murmured Kyle, a look of vacancy splayed across his face as he stumbled over to the nearest patio chair. He pulled it out with a loud screech and collapsed into it, the night sky spinning above him like a carnival ride. 

A hand, to which he couldn’t quite figure out who it belonged, handed him a joint, the end smoldering black and bright red. Normally, he’d turn down the offer, preferring not to inhale mind-altering substances into his lungs, but right now, Kyle felt like a changed man.

He accepted the joint and took a long, slow, drag, and watched in awe as the smoke curled and danced up towards the blue-black sky. 

***

Butters was almost having a good time—almost— when he realized that his phone was buzzing from his back pocket. He sighed, reaching behind him, silently praying that it would just be a telemarketer and not the person he least wanted to speak to right now.

Flipping his phone over in his sweaty palm, he shut his eyes and sighed in resignation. It was his dad. He was about to press his thumb to the ANSWER button, knowing fully well that if he let the phone go to voicemail he’d be in for it, when he realized he couldn’t answer the phone with Nicki Minaj blasting behind him, melded along with the shouts of drunken teenagers.

He stood up from the couch he’d been seated at and wiped his palms on his jeans. Then, he hurried to the iPhone docking station where the music was playing from and paused the music with shaking hands. Immediately came a collective groan from his peers.

“What happened to the music?” said Wendy, who had been sitting next to him on the couch with Stan. She was currently seated on her boyfriend’s lap, while Stan looked at his phone disinterestedly.   
“Er… Fellers, I’m gonna have to ask you all to be quiet for just a minute,” he said as loudly as he could. 

“Why, Butters?” asked Clyde, without making an attempt to mask his annoyance. He flashed a cocky grin to the gaggle of girls which surrounded him, his shoulders leaning coolly against his living room wall as he cradled a beer between his hands.

“My dad’s calling,” he said urgently, checking his phone again to see if his father had given up the call. He hadn’t, to Butter’s relief-his father hated nothing more than an unanswered call from his son- and he was pleased when the kids all fell silent. Everyone knew Butter’s dad was crazy, and they were fully aware that the man had no qualms against calling the cops on a party his son might be frequenting. 

Butters answered the call and placed his phone to his ear. “Hey, dad.”

“Butters! Your mother and I are worried sick.”

“Why, dad? I told ya, the guys and I are having a scary movie marathon at Clyde’s house,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steady as he spoke. If his dad knew he’d lied to him so he could go to a house party, he’d be dead for sure.

“You’ve been gone for an hour and we hadn’t heard from you. We were afraid maybe something happened.”

He rolled his eyes, wanting badly for the interaction to end. “Well, I’m a-okay, dad. Never been better.”

“Well, good, Butters. Next time just make sure you keep us updated.” 

“I sure will. Well, we’re putting in Nightmare on Elm street now, so I’ve got to go.”

Just as he was about to end the call, an impossibly loud belch sounded from the kitchen. Seconds later, Eric Cartman stumbled into the living room, his ever-present hat missing from his head, revealing a mop of greasy brown hair in disarray. “Guys. Guys. Craig says his dick is bigger than mine. Do you guys really think Craig’s dick is bigger than mine? Hey, where’d the music go?”

“When has Craig seen your dick?” said Clyde in a monotone. 

Butters pressed his lips together and took in a deep breath through his nose. 

“Butters? What was that?” His father’s voice had heightened to something slightly panicked. 

“Nothin’, dad. Just Eric up to his usual antics,” he said nonchalantly, before shooting a death glare at the inebriated, obese boy who had interrupted his phone call. 

“You better not be up to anything, Butters, or else you’re in for a grounding,” said his father, and Butters, again, rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

“Yes, sir. Well, I’ve got to get going,” he said. “Bye!”

He hung up the call before his father could say anymore, or Cartman could make things worse. He realized then that he was being watched by nearly every person in the room, and his face burned bright red. He turned back to the docking station where he unpaused the music, and awkwardly made his way back to the couch, where Wendy and Stan were now bickering.

“All I’m saying is that I’d like to see my friends, too,” said Stan irritably from underneath Wendy, who was still seated across his legs. “We don’t have to be together every minute.”

“Well, Stan, I’m glad to know you don’t want to spend time with your girlfriend. Maybe I was stupid for taking you back,” snapped Wendy, and Butters could tell she already had a few beers on her belt tonight. Butters hovered, unsure, not wanting to interrupt the situation by sitting down, but not wanting to appear like he was eavesdropping. He whistled to himself, attempting to seem as casual as possible, deciding to play a game on his phone.

“I never said I didn’t wanna spend time with you, Wendy! I said I wanted to hang with the guys for a little while. We’ve been on this couch the entire time and I’m getting bored.”

“Well, fine! If I’m so boring, go hang out with the guys as much as you want! Why don’t you see if they’ll suck your dick, too?” she shouted, pushing up off of Stan and storming into the kitchen. Stan looked up at Butters helplessly, and he offered a sympathetic smile in response.

“Girls, am I right?” 

“God, you have no idea. You’re so lucky you don’t have a girlfriend, Butters.”

“Why do you keep getting back with her? If she’s always so…bitchy?” asked Butters, genuinely curious. He sat next to Stan and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, feeling uncharacteristically relaxed all of a sudden.

“Your guess is as good as mine, dude.” Stan looked at his open palms, dejected. 

“I’ll go talk to her, if ya want,” offered Butters, ignoring Cartman in the background as he picked an argument with Clyde- something to do with penis length- and patting Stan on the shoulder. 

“Go ahead. If I can’t talk any sense into her, maybe you can.” He didn’t seem sure of his words at all, but Butters was grateful to offer any kind of help. Maybe he was lucky he didn't have a girlfriend. Not that he really wanted one, in all honesty.

He stood up and walked into the kitchen, where a few guys were hanging out. Wendy, however, was nowhere to be found. “Heya guys, have any of you seen Wendy?”

“She’s on the back patio. She seems pissed, so be careful,” snickered one guy, and the others laughed in unison. 

Butters nodded and headed towards the back door, where the scent of marijuana was already overwhelming. Butters usually avoided going places where there would be weed, mainly for fear that the scent would stick to him and his dad would pick up on it once he arrived home, but he decided he’d take the risk for Stan. Pushing through the screen door, he went outside, where Wendy was talking- or, more accurately, ranting- angrily to a few of her girl friends.

“B-buh-Butters! Care for a s-sm-smoke?” came Jimmy’s voice from one of the chairs. He hardly had time to respond before a familiar green-clad boy staggered towards him, wrapping his arms around Butter’s neck to steady himself.

“Butters! I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” slurred Kyle, his eyes nearly crossed, a huge, stupid grin on his face. “Butters, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you’re like, one of my best friends, man.” He lost his balance momentarily, sending Butters back a few steps before Butters shook him off.

“Gee whiz, Kyle, I didn’t know you drank,” said Butters, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the ginger. “Did somebody slip you somethin’?”

Kyle burst into cackles, again losing his balance and nearly toppling to the ground, before straightening himself up. “What are you talking about, Butters? I haven’t had anything” -he paused to hiccup a few times before continuing- “to drink. What would make you think that?”

“Kyle, you ought to have some water or somethin’. You don’t look so good.”

“This is why you’re my best friend, dude. You just care about everyone’s well being. I’m so lucky to have you.” 

“Your best friend is Stan, Kyle,” said Butters, taking Kyle by the shoulders and steering him towards an empty chair. 

“Stan’s best friend is Wendy,” he said loudly, despite Wendy being mere feet away from him. “He has no time for me anymore.” His face contorted, and he looked as though he were about to start bawling at any moment. Butters sighed and forced the boy into a seat. 

“Calm down, Kyle. You're just drunk.”

He looked up across the table. On the seat across from Kyle’s sat Kenny, who was having a semi-intense make out session with a girl who appeared to be Bebe on his lap. His stomach dropped and he looked away, chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek. It was too late, however, as Kenny had somehow caught on to him watching, and had broken away from Bebe to greet him.

“Hey, Butters,” said Kenny.

He clenched his jaw. “Hi, Kenny.” 

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” said Kenny, reaching around Bebe to retrieve a beer bottle off the table. He put it to his lips and met his eyes to Butters’, a calm half-smile on his face. Butters swallowed, his face flushing bright red, and adverted his gaze to his fingernails.

“Yeah, well, I thought, why not, you know?”   
“I’m glad you came. I haven’t seen you around lately,” said Kenny.

Yeah, and there’s a reason for that, thought Butters, but he only shrugged, lifting his shoulders to his ears and heaving them back down in an act of exaggerated nonchalance. “Just have been busy. Studyin’ and whatnot.”

“Studying for what? Dude, we’re seniors. Who gives a shit about school anymore?”

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t give a shit, but I do. My dad’ll ground me if I don’t get straight-A’s.”

“Jesus, dude. Fuck your dad.”

Butters was pissed now, his fists balled up at his sides, and he found that he’d completely forgotten why he’d come outside in the first place. If he’d known Kenny was going to be out there, and would try to talk to him as if nothing was wrong between them, he never would’ve offered to go. But now he was stuck.

“Don’t say stuff about my dad,” spat Butters, turning to Kyle to see if he was alright. Currently the boy had his head in his hands, his elbows leaning on the glass table, his shoulders slumped forward as he sobbed. 

“Since when did you care what anyone said about your dad? He’s nuts, Butters. Sorry if you don’t wanna hear it.”

“You know what, why don’t you just go back to suckin’ Bebe’s face and leave me alone?” 

Kenny scrunched up his eyebrows, now appearing concerned. Butters maintained his icy demeanor, though, silently scolding himself for saying something that made him sound so…jealous. It hadn’t been his intention, really; it had just slipped out. But Butters knew well that his anger towards Kenny had nothing at all to do with what he’d said about his father, and more to do with a certain thing that had happened last month. Only he and Kenny knew about it, and ever since then, things just hadn’t been the same. Butters was partially to blame for this, as he’d purposely gone out of his way to avoid Kenny at school after what had happened, but what else could he do? He couldn’t just face someone who’d made him feel the things he’d felt.

“Are you okay, man?” asked Kenny. “Is this about…” his voice trailed off, and his lips turned downwards. 

“Oh, you think I’m just sat up all night cryin’ about you? Well, you’re wrong. I don't even care. So just leave me alone,” said Butters, a little louder than he’d meant to, and a few people turned to look over at him. 

He turned around and went back inside, no longer caring about talking to Wendy. Stan would just have to deal with her himself. He passed through the kitchen, where a half-empty beer case sat unattended, and without a second thought he reached in and took one for himself.

***

Stan had finally had enough of this party, after Wendy’s incessant bitching and Cartman’s sloppy drunkenness, and was about ready to go when he realized that he hadn’t seen Kyle since the beginning of the party. He wondered if maybe Kyle had found a girl, which he deemed unlikely, since Kyle seemed to have some sort of issue with girls these days. But still, he supposed, you never know.

It was unlike his best friend to just wander off alone at parties, since he was normally shy and bad at social interaction, and didn’t exactly partake in the typical ‘party’ activities that the other students at South Park high liked to. But maybe he’d decided to go off and have some fun of his own, since Wendy wasn’t exactly allowing them to hang out. He didn’t really care- he just wanted to find him and get the hell out of there.

He’d checked out back for Kyle (Wendy screamed at him to fuck off the minute he stepped outside, now obviously very drunk), and all around the lower level of Clyde’s house, so he concluded that he must be somewhere upstairs. 

He made his way up the staircase, past a few couples making out, and began his search for Kyle. From a door next to what he assumed to be Clyde’s bedroom, he heard the telltale sound of a person vomiting. Then a prolonged moan, and some more vomiting. He opened the door slowly, so as not to startle whoever was in there, and was surprised to find Kyle himself hunched over the toilet. His hat was off, folded neatly next to him, and his massive heap of ginger hair stuck up in all directions. 

“Kyle, I’ve been looking for you. Are you okay?” He shut the door behind him and watched his friend in awe; he had never before seen Kyle like this, and it was all too weird. Kyle looked up, his curly hair partially blocking his view of Stan, and coughed weakly.

“Drank. Too. Much,” he managed, before resting his cheek on the smooth toilet bowl. 

“Why’d you drink so much?” he asked, walking inside further and settling himself on the edge of the bathtub, which was directly behind his friend.

“I just wanted to have fun,” Kyle said, his voice cracking. He adjusted his body so he could face Stan, and he noticed the boy had deep, prominent rings under his eyes. His skin was tinged slightly green, and vomit was on his chin. Something about this made him uncomfortable; he hated seeing Kyle in pain, or distress. 

“You can have fun without getting sick like this,” said Stan, reaching forward to stroke Kyle’s hair. He loved Kyle’s hair, soft and long and unkempt. He thought maybe touching Kyle’s hair like this was a little weird, but he couldn’t help himself. Kyle grunted and jerked his head away, surprising Stan, and all at once he felt like an idiot.

“I hate when you do shit like that,” said Kyle, his eyes shut as he swayed his head back and forth. “It makes me feel like…” he went silent, opting not to finish his sentence, and brought his knees to his chest. 

“Feel like what?” said Stan, cautious. For a reason he couldn't explain, his heart quickened its pace, although he had no real idea what Kyle had wanted to say. He almost felt, though he couldn’t be sure why, like everything was about to change, right then and there in the bathroom at a shitty house party. 

“It makes me feel like… you really love me.” 

Stan paused. “Of course I love you, man, you’re my best friend.”

Kyle buried his face in his knees and let out a long sigh. “Yeah.” 

“I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” said Stan, though deep down he felt like maybe he did, if not just a little. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, which he only then realized had been sweating, and he said nothing else.

“You wouldn’t,” said Kyle quietly. “You love Wendy.”

“You’ve never wondered why I- why I don’t want any girls? Why I’ve never had my first kiss?” Kyle’s voice was trembling, and Stan realized he was on the verge of tears. “I don’t want some girl. I don’t want anyone.” 

“Kyle, what are you talking about?” He’d thought this might happen someday, or maybe he’d hoped this would happen someday, but he hadn’t been prepared for it to happen now. He wasn’t ready; wasn’t ready to face himself, or the truth. He picked at the fabric on his sweater, unable to decipher the hundreds of emotions that were running through his body all at once. He’d felt these emotions so many times before, but immediately would shove them back down, not wanting to deal with them, not wanting to understand. He remembered the first time he’d felt like this- their first sleepover, when they were six, Kyle’s sleeping body next to his, his warmth matching Stan’s warmth. He’d never told anyone, but that night he’d taken Kyle’s hand and held it all the way until he fell asleep. 

“Fuck,” exclaimed Kyle, hugging his knees to his chest protectively. “This is why I don’t drink. I knew I shouldn’t have drank. I’ve always known I’d end up saying something I really don’t wanna say.”

“Well, say it,” said Stan, his tone hushed and urgent. “I don’t care how weird you think it is. Just say it.”

“I can’t,” said Kyle, his voice muffled by his knees, and Stan could see the dark spots of tears forming on his jeans. “I can’t lose you. You’re the only one I have.”

“You won’t lose me,” said Stan again, his heart nearly ready to burst, tears now welling up in his own eyes. “You could never lose me, dude.”

“Not even if your best friend turns out to be a faggot?” said Kyle, disgust dripping from his words. He looked up to face Stan, his eyes wide and afraid, and Stan realized all at once that Kyle had no idea how he felt for him. Kyle really believed that he’d turn Stan away if he revealed who he truly was. How could he ever believe that? Didn’t he know that they had an unbreakable bond, no matter what?

“Dude, I don’t care if you’re gay. You’re my best friend no matter what.”  
“But it isn’t just that I’m gay,” said Kyle, his voice hoarse as he raised his volume. “It’s that I’m gay for you. I love you. I always have.” Tears made their way rapidly across his pale cheeks and onto the front of his shirt, and he wiped them away before replacing them with new ones. 

Stan didn’t know what to say; his mind was racing a thousand words a minute, and there was no way for him to articulate exactly what he was thinking. He reached over to the towel rack and retrieved a towel, before gently lifting Kyle’s chin and wiping away the vomit. And then he leaned forward and kissed him, because fuck it, why not? 

Kyle’s mouth tasted like vodka and, unavoidably, throw up, but it didn't occur to him to care. All that mattered right now was showing Kyle what he had been unable to see this whole time he’d known Stan. Kyle brought his arms up feverishly to wrap around Stan’s neck, and Stan ran his fingers through Kyle’s hair- for the first time, without worrying if it was weird. They broke apart, panting, and Stan smiled at his beautiful friend. Nothing he’d ever done with Wendy had felt like this. He’d known all this time that there was something he was missing in their relationship, but he never could quite place what. Now, it was clear as day to him: Wendy wasn’t Kyle. And Kyle was the only person he wanted.

“I love you too, dude,” he said gently, using his sleeve to brush away the last of Kyle’s tears. “It took you saying all this gay shit to make me realize it.”

They kissed again, this time more intensely, and Stan found himself wondering how Kyle had never kissed anyone before him. His lips seemed to move exactly the way Stan wanted them to, soft and caressing but confident and firm. When Wendy kissed him, it felt like she was going through the motions. This was real.

Stan couldn’t believe it’d taken him this long to realize what he’d been missing.

There was a scraping noise, and suddenly the two of them were bathed in alien light- light from the outside hallway. In the doorway loomed a figure, still as a statue and equally silent. They pulled apart frantically, and instinctively Kyle reached next to him and put his hat back on, as if that would undo whatever the intruder had seen.

Stan’s mouth went dry, however, when he realized who had seen them. 

It was Wendy.

She didn’t yell out, or curse, or anything that Stan expected her to do upon walking in on such a scene. Instead she looked down to her feet, an almost guilty look plastered on her face, and turned. Then, she left.

Kyle looked at Stan, and Stan looked at Kyle, both boys wide-eyed and shaken. Then, seemingly in unison, they both spoke.

“Dude.”

****

“Kenny,” purred Bebe, kissing Kenny’s neck tenderly, her fingers running up and down the front of his parka teasingly. Kenny was leaning against the washing machine, as the only vacant room in the house they’d come across was the laundry room, and so the two of them had decided to duck into the detergent-scented hideaway for some private fun. 

Bebe wasn’t the best girl he’d ever hooked up with, nor the worst; she wasn’t as freaky as he liked them, but to Kenny, sex was sex, and he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity. He tensed in excitement as Bebe unzipped his jacket and slid it off, immediately running her fingers through his shaggy blond hair and kissing him on the mouth.

He slid his hands up her body- from her shapely thighs, to her round, perky ass, to her hips and then, finally, her breasts, pushed up on display in her tight red dress as he kissed her, only half-trying to get her going. He didn’t find Bebe to be exactly… particular about what turned her on; he’d heard that she was pretty easy, so he supposed he didn’t have to try too hard. She tapped her long fingernails- painted to match her dress- against one of the buttons on his shirt, before quickly freeing it from its hold and moving on to the next one. She hadn’t even made it to the fourth button before he thought of something that put him entirely out of the mood.

Butters.

What had been his problem tonight? He’d gotten so touchy for what appeared to be no reason. It was rare he ever saw his friend in such an awful mood, and it alarmed him that it’d happened so quickly. There had to be a reason for it, but-

Did it have to do with that night last month? Why would it? It dawned on him suddenly that perhaps Butters hadn’t been as busy as he claimed he’d been, and maybe the reason they’d hardly seen each other the past few weeks was because Butters was purposely trying not to see him. It was a possibility, but it seemed stupid. 

Bebe finished undoing Kenny’s top and slid it off him, exposing his smooth, slightly toned stomach. Kenny wasn’t exactly ripped, but his body was half-decent in his opinion, and besides, girls- and guys, for that matter- seemed to really like it. He let her continue, their lips still pressed together, but now he was lost in thought.

What an un-Kenny thing to do, he thought. Getting distracted during a hookup. 

“I want you, Kenny,” she said seductively, reaching down to his crotch and giving it a squeeze. He grabbed her ass half-heartedly, letting her leave a hickey on his shoulder as he stared at the clothes that had been hung up to dry. 

She started unbuckling his belt, her hands in a hormone-induced frenzy, and he waited a few seconds before pushing her off. She looked at him, bewildered, and he realized he couldn’t even explain why he’d done it.

“What, you don’t want it?” said Bebe, her tone pitched in annoyance. 

“No, I do, I just—“ he chewed his bottom lip pensively. He just, what? It occurred to him that he hadn’t even thought of what he was going to say after that. “I have herpes.”

Shit. Why the fuck would he say that, of all possible things to say? Now she was going to go back to her little friends and tell them all that he had an STD, and he wouldn’t get laid for the rest of the year. 

“You- what?!” she said, springing back as though he’d sprayed some sort of repellant on her, her face screwed up in horror. “Oh my god, am I gonna get it now that we were kissing?” Her hand flew up to her slightly swollen lips, which had once been painted a subtle pink color that had long ago worn off.

“No, it’s only on my dick,” said Kenny. Too late to go back now. 

“You really are a man whore, McCormick,” she said coldly, before giving him a shove and storming off. He lingered for a few seconds, reveling in the fact that he could fuck something up so terribly.

Now what was there to do? Oh, right. Butters. He huffed, annoyed that Butters of all people had mentally cockblocked him. He fished his shirt off the floor and slid it back on, not really minding the wrinkles that had formed. In fact, he liked it better that way. He buttoned it up and pulled on his parka before setting out to find the blond-haired little shit who had inadvertently caused this. 

It was a little past one, but the party had begun to die down already. Lame. Kenny shoved his hands into his pockets and scanned the living room as discreetly as he could. Nope, Butters wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d left, but Kenny decided he’d give the house a sweep just in case. He considered going to look upstairs, but decided against it. What the hell would Butters be doing up there, anyway? He instead stepped out the front door, and almost immediately, as though Kenny was some sort of low-budget psychic, he spotted Butters.

The boy was sitting on the front porch steps, his elbows leaning against his knees with his chin resting delicately in his palms. Kenny watched him for a few seconds, noticing the way his soft blond hair rustled gently with the passing wind, and he found himself smiling. What the hell? 

“Hey, Butters,” said Kenny, and Butters didn’t even turn around to see who it was before responding.

“What do you want?” he said. The phrasing was somewhat hostile, but his tone wasn’t, and Kenny figured it okay to join him on the step. He sat down and fished his cigarette box out of his pocket, placing one in between his teeth.

“Why were you so pissy earlier?” he decided to get right to the point. No time like the present, right?

“Whaddya mean?” said Butters, though Kenny knew well he was only playing dumb to see what he’d say in response. 

“You know, Butters,” said Kenny, fishing a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. To his surprise, Butters gave no protest. Instead, he kept his eyes fixated on the neighborhood, which was stunningly peaceful after all the annoying members of the upper-middle-class South Park suburbs went to sleep.  
“I dunno. Just the way Bebe was kissin’ you bugged me, I guess. Just right out in the open like it was nothin’.”

“Why?” Kenny was actually confused, and he took a long drag of his cigarette to compensate.

“It just kinda reminded me of. Of… well, you know.” He didn’t once turn to face Kenny, but he was okay with that. Kenny didn’t really do the whole emotional thing, so the lack of eye contact made this a great deal easier.

“What, that night at Craig’s party?” 

Butters was silent. He shut his eyes. “I know you probably don’t wanna hear this. I get it, I’m just another one of your booty calls, but it’s different for me. Stuff like that just doesn’t really happen to me.”

“Butters, you don’t have to think of it like that. It wasn’t a booty call. We just…hooked up is all.”

“Yeah, but…” 

“But what?” Kenny smoked his cigarette more, already growing tired of it. It seemed to Kenny that he grew tired of things far too easily. 

“But it was the first time for me.” 

Kenny raised his eyebrows. He’d never thought of it that way; it hadn’t even crossed his mind to ask if Butters had ever done anything with anyone before. These days, at this age, most people had. He’d just assumed…

God, he was an idiot. He really thought that Butters hadn’t been a virgin? Naive, innocent, sweet Butters. Of fucking course he’d been a virgin. Now this made everything a whole lot more complicated. Even a sex-obsessed pervert like Kenny could understand the implications that came with first times, and all at once he felt like a really, really huge asshole.

“Butters, I didn’t know. I just- I was horny. You know how I am. I didn’t think it really meant anything like that to you.” 

“‘Course it meant something to me,” said Butters, his eyes following the headlights of a passing car. His face was serene, but sad. Kenny felt ashamed. “But it meant even more ‘cause it was with. You know. Another boy.”

Kenny nodded again, another epiphany falling upon him. This time, he remembered that not everyone was as comfortable with their sexuality as him. Kenny had never really had a “confused” period that most teenagers had- he liked guys and he liked girls, and that was it. There was never any shame, nor fear, nor confusion. But other people, especially people like Butters, were different. Kenny hadn’t even really considered the fact that they were both boys the night they’d hooked up. But for Butters, he realized, it’d probably been monumental.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking boys.”

“That’s what they tell us, and I sorta get it. That it’s okay to be gay. But it’s just so different when it’s actually you. You get all guilty, ‘cause you’re thinkin’ it’s not how you’re supposed to be. And gosh, if my dad knew what we did, he’d kill me! And I realized that night that that’s the reason I haven’t really been talkin’ to girls. Because I’ve been waitin’ for a boy to come and sweep me off my feet, I guess. And I just haven’t been able to forget the way you made me feel.” 

Butters seemed to have spilled out his whole heart, right there in front of Kenny, and he wasn’t sure what to do with what he’d been told. It was very infrequent that someone would tell Kenny their feelings like this, like he was some kind of therapist, and he took another drag of his cigarette while he tried to think of what to say.

“The thing is though, Butters, there’s no way it’s supposed to be. Whatever feels right is how it’s supposed to be. And if you like dick, well then, that’s how it’s supposed to be for you,” he laughed, knowing he was probably making no sense, but at least he’d said something. “And I know you got pissed when I said this earlier, but fuck. Your. Dad. You’re pretty much a grown ass man and you can do whatever-and whoever-you want.” 

Butters giggled, that infectious giggle that Kenny hadn’t even known he loved, and he smiled. He was glad he’d made things better, rather than worse, for once in his miserable life. 

“And just between me and you, I never would’ve guessed it was your first time. You were really good.”

Butters grinned in his usual goofy way. “Well, thanks Kenny. Sure means a lot.”

“You know, Butters, if you ever wanna feel the way you talked about feeling again, you don’t have to ask me twice. I’m Kenny McCormick. I’m a total slut.”

“Well, what ‘bout right now?” asked Butters, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. He’d finally turned to look Kenny in the face, and there was a light dusting of rosiness across his cheeks. 

“Okay, I’m a freak, but I’m not that freaky. We are not fucking on this porch.”

Butters narrowed his eyes, before wrapping a hand around the back of Kenny’s neck. “I don’t mean fuckin’, silly. Just a kiss. That was the best part.” 

Kenny grinned underneath his polo jacket, sliding off his hood. Then he kissed Butters, right there for anyone who was awake in this little town to see, and he didn’t care. There was something strange deep in his stomach that told him this was different than usual, that Butters wasn’t going to be just another fuckbuddy, that maybe, just maybe, Kenny McCormick did do emotions after all. 

But he would deal with that, he thought, another time. 

****

Wendy walked slowly, cautiously, down the stairs and back into the party, as if in a daze, as she comprehended what she had just walked in on. Was it really such a surprise, what she’d seen? Hadn’t she known this whole time that Stan and Kyle had always had a relationship that somehow surpassed that of friends? She felt so incredibly stupid right now, walking away from everything she’d seen without having even said a word. All she’d wanted to do was to take a fucking piss. And now she had this to deal with. She didn't even know how she was supposed to feel; she was Wendy Testaburger! She knew everything! But now, she felt stupider than she ever had in her life.

Downstairs, the party was even more dead than it had been when she’d gone upstairs. It seemed to be less of a party and more of a hangout, with guys hanging out on the couch and a few guys still drinking in the kitchen. She couldn’t see any of her friends, which only worsened her mood, since Nichole had been her ride home. Sitting on the bottom of the steps, she saw a large silhouette sitting down. It was Eric Cartman.

She almost scoffed, but suddenly a thought crossed her mind. A horrible, disgusting thought. But as the silhouette turned its head into the light coming from upstairs, and she saw the features on Eric’s face contort into mischief upon seeing her, she smiled. 

“Eric, come on, I have something to show you,” she said, leaning down to tug on Eric’s arm before she could change her mind. She needed to do something ridiculous to set things straight for herself. Lately everything seemed so crazy and unpredictable, and it only made sense to do something of an equal magnitude to make things feel balanced. 

“What the- Wendy, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“C’mon,” she said, pulling him to his feet with surprising ease. She guided him through the downstairs area, her hand gripped around his wrist- she wasn’t crazy enough to hold his actual hand, even right now in this moment of impulsivity- and she guided him to the laundry room. She only knew it was the laundry room because Bebe had told her earlier, when indicating how she planned to blow Kenny in there. She made a mental note to later ask Bebe how things had gone, but right now she had other things to do.

They entered the laundry room and she shut the door behind them, before fumbling on the wall for the light switch. When the lights flickered to life, she found herself face-to-face with Eric Cartman, her nemesis since elementary school. Was she really about to do this?

She pushed him against the washing machine and kissed him without a second thought. Cartman stood, motionless, before pushing her away and looking at her quizzically. “Wendy, are you on drugs or something? What the fuck is going on?”

“Stan and Kyle. I walked in on them.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he erupted into his usual obnoxious laughter. “Stan? And Kyle? Fagging out? Oh shit, that is fucking rich. Wendy, Stan cheated on you with a gay ginger JEW,” he said, barely breathing as he cackled to himself. Wendy didn’t laugh and instead poised an eyebrow at him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well, tonight’s your lucky night, because I’ve decided to blow you.”

“Okay, seriously, Wendy, are you on drugs? Because I’m not trying to get accused of date rape or some shit. I’m not that stupid.”

“No drugs, just temporary insanity, it seems,” she said. 

“Oh shit. I can’t wait to tell Stan that his bitchy girlfriend wants to blow me,” he said, elated. Wendy rolled her eyes, grabbing Cartman by the front of his sweatshirt. 

“Like anyone would believe you,” she said before kissing him. He tasted like beer, mostly, and was that a hint of hot Cheetos? Whatever. He wasn’t too bad of a kisser, either, and she found herself wondering if he had much experience. He wasn’t exactly the best looking guy, and his personality was even worse, so she doubted that he’d ever gotten laid. But still, anything was possible in South Park, it seemed.

“You suck at kissing,” he said, pausing to catch his breath.

She glared at him. “As if you have anything to compare me to?”

“I’ll have you know, Wendy, that I get lots of chicks. So shut your whore mouth.”

Wendy returned to kissing him, deciding it was best for him to keep as many articles of clothing on as possible. She dropped to her knees and pulled down his pants, finding herself face-to-face with a pair of bright red boxers printed with teddy bears.

“Really sexy underwear choice,” said Wendy, grimacing. 

“Wow, isn’t this a bit of a degrading position for a strong feminist like you?” he taunted, but Wendy really didn’t care at this point. She couldn’t explain her actions even if she tried; she just felt the need to do this, and so she was going to. She pulled his boxers down to reveal a penis that was slightly larger than she’d expected; not anything remarkable, but still bigger than what most people would expect a guy like Eric Cartman to be packing. 

“It’s bigger than Stan’s, isn’t it?” mused Cartman, smirking at Wendy’s slightly impressed expression. It really wasn’t bigger than Stan’s, but it wasn’t much smaller, either. She decided to say nothing and instead began licking the warm skin of his shaft.

She shot a glare upwards as he feigned a long, discontented yawn, and in turn took the whole thing in her mouth, gagging slightly as she neared his balls, and then bobbing her head back again. His eyes were shut, and he seemed to be enjoying it. She grinned in satisfaction, taking hold of his length and taking a few more inches back into her mouth. She felt like she was dreaming, giving head to Eric fucking Cartman of all people, but something inside her urged her to continue on. 

She proceeded with this technique for a while before taking the whole thing back into her mouth, blinking back tears as it brushed the back of her throat. This rewarded her with a slight moan from Eric, which she could tell he had been trying his hardest to stifle. She did this again, and she could hear him mumble something under his breath, though she couldn’t quite place what. She took this as a good sign and quickened her pace, and within seconds Eric came, a cacophony of curse words escaping his mouth.

She had not much of a choice but to swallow, and then she stood up. Eric stood there, his mouth wide open in both shock and awe, as he regarded the dark-haired girl in front of him. For the first time in all the years she’d known him, Eric Cartman was speechless.

“Not yawning now, are you?” she said triumphantly, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Cartman just shook his head.

“We never speak of this again, do you understand me?” said Wendy sharply as Cartman bent over to pull up his boxers and pants. 

“Can’t make any promises.”

“Cartman, you’re really a fucking asshole, you know that?”

“Wendy, you’re really a fucking crazy bitch, you know that?”

Wendy only shrugged. Maybe she was. She didn’t care. Kyle and Stan were in love, and she’d just blown her least favorite person in South Park. This little suburban world she lived in was strange and wild and beautiful. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> LMAOOOO ofc i had to end this w a cartman/wendy bj scene. don't even ship them but i just thought it'd be funny to write.
> 
> anyways thx for reading if u did, lmk what you wanna see next! i havent written fic in AGES and i wanna start getting back into things again bc im truly fanfiction trash at heart


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